


Time and Again

by ofperspicacity



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Reincarnation AU, hence the Major Character Death tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofperspicacity/pseuds/ofperspicacity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he’s too old and sometimes he’s too young. Sometimes they don’t speak the same language and sometimes their lives brush only for a few moments. Sometimes, though, fate is kind to him, and Kageyama gets to fall in love with Hinata all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time and Again

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a 50 first dates AU. It turned into this instead. I don't know where all of this angst comes from, I swear. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [ofperspicacity](http://ofperspicacity.tumblr.com)

The golden glow cast across Hinata’s face by the dying light plays a cruel trick on Kageyama’s mind, and he allows himself a desperate second of hope before Hinata’s eyelids droop and the lines deepen on his face. Already the setting sun has shifted low enough that the tendrils that had played across Hinata’s face are now pooled on the floor, and the shadows have returned to his cheeks. 

“This isn’t goodbye.” Hinata’s struggling to give him one last smile, and Kageyama feels his own breaths grow shallow, soaking in the fragile thing before Hinata’s lips quiver and it flickers from existence. “Not for forever.” Kageyama knows this, but _God_ , he’s never ready for the in-betweens. 

“We should have had more time.” Kageyama says through clenched teeth, letting the hot anger wash over him because it’s less complicated than the empty ache that has been slowly developing in his chest. They’d had twenty-six years this time, but even all of the time in the world could never be enough. Forty-nine years old and the cancer had stolen in, sapping Hinata’s light until he could barely even muster a smile. 

“We will.” Hinata insists weakly, trying to squeeze the hand clenched around his ( _When?_ Kageyama wants to demand, but he clamps his mouth shut). “We always find each other.” Kageyama feels the words sear themselves onto his heart, latching on to the promise they hold as the last spark in Hinata’s eyes is extinguished and the hand in his goes limp.

*

Kageyama is five when it hits him for the first time. Out of the corner of his eye, a snatch of orange catches his attention and suddenly he’s twisting in his seat, searching desperately for its source. The word _Hinata_ ghosts between his lips and suddenly he’s remembering fingers tangled together, a warm body pressed against his, and the ghost of laughter that tingles all the way down to his middle. He doesn’t know why, but suddenly he’s encompassed by a swelling _need_ which merely dissipates slightly after the snatch of orange has disappeared from view, only the bright t-shirt of one of his classmates ducking out to use the restroom. There’s something he needs to find, some _one_ , and he’s suddenly achingly aware of the Hinata-shaped space in his chest.

There’s always something orange about Hinata. It’s how Kageyama has learned to know that it’s him. Once it was the bright backpack bouncing behind him. Once it was those infernal running shoes, striking enough that Kageyama could pick him out of a crowd of runners even yards away. Once it was the cat winding its way around his legs when Kageyama greeted his new neighbor for the first time. Kageyama remembers this more readily with each tangerine-tinged dream that leaves him with sharp longing and sharper resolve upon waking. He often wonders what it will be this time, letting his heart speed up with every glimpse of a bobbing orange balloon or the fresh hue his next door neighbors are painting onto their mailbox, and it only slows down when his eyes meet an unfamiliar pair before dropping to the tips of his shoes. He’s lost count of how many times he’s felt the sinking in his gut.

He’d already been looking for ten years when his breath catches in his throat, an unruly head of hair the most striking shade he thinks he’s ever seen appearing across the hallway. He calls out before he can stop himself, reprimanding his teammates at the same time as he’s searching out a certain pair of eyes, something sliding into place in his chest when a familiar spark snaps back at him. It has to be Hinata this time. In all of Kageyama’s lifetimes, there has never been someone as tenacious, boisterous, or cathartic as _him_. 

In the time it takes Kageyama to release that breath, he realizes with a falter in his step that though this is undeniably his Hinata, there isn’t a hint of familiarity in those blazing eyes. He suddenly recalls a lifetime when an unnerving gaze met his over the cubicle wall, its owner persistent in his pursuit despite Kageyama’s every refusal of his advances. It was over a year later and a few months into a relationship that the realization had crashed over Kageyama like a dousing rain shower, and suddenly he was crushing Hinata close to his chest and choking out apologies over the lump in his throat. He’d hated himself for forgetting, but Hinata had insisted that just having Kageyama next to him had been enough. Fate has always been cruel, but she is nothing if not just, and Kageyama’s turn has come around at last. He feels his brow lower into what must be a frightening scowl, but he does nothing to soften it. Finding Hinata, as it turns out, is only the start of the battle.

He knows Hinata inside and out, and maybe that’s what hurts most. He knows that Hinata is going to chase after that fouled block. He knows Hinata is going to keep on pushing himself even when things have turned beyond hopeless, because for anything less he wouldn’t be Hinata. He even anticipates, to some extent, Hinata’s passionate display on the steps afterwards, vowing in no uncertain terms to crush Kageyama once and for all with angry, determined tears flowing down his cheeks. Kageyama resorts to the deep-set scowl that comes so easily to this face, letting the easy anger mask every other emotion he’s trying to quash. He could pursue Hinata right then, but instead he turns away with a sad finality settling in his middle, biting back the disappointment and drawing blood from his lip in the process. Perhaps this is one of those lifetimes when their lives barely intercept. Perhaps in this lifetime the volleyball will have to be enough.

Perhaps not. Months later he’s almost (always _almost_ ) let his life settle into a rhythm that doesn’t include Hinata, a rhythm that always feels unnatural no matter how often he’s had to cultivate it. It’s his first day at Karasuno and of course he’s in the gym practicing his serves because the way the ball reacts to his fingertips makes him feel almost whole. He’s mid-jump when an enraged shout shatters his concentration and he lands sloppily, looking into the same fiery gaze he’d prepared himself never to see again, not even feeling the dull thud as the ball collides with his head before it rolls to the side, forgotten.

He stands there and lets Hinata berate him, pretending they’re strangers when he probably knows Hinata better than he knows himself. He’s trying to decide whether fate is being kind or cruel, and he nearly makes up his mind when his own Hinata calls him the King of the Court and it feels like the sharpest betrayal. He channels every emotion into a brusque front and he does the only thing he knows: he immediately begins pushing Hinata to be better because he knows that he’s capable of so much more. It’s only later that night, in the safety of his own bed, that he lets it all get the better of him. He only wants to hear Hinata’s laughter again, to learn how their new hands feel tangled together, palm to palm. His soul is lonely without its companion.

As lifetimes go, this one really could be considered more fortunate than most. There was the time Kageyama had worked as a preschool teacher and, for one year, he had a student with a bouncing orange backpack who had sobbed and clung to him on the last day of class as his apologetic parents pried him off of Kageyama who merely cupped Hinata’s small face in his hand for a few moments before bidding him a mostly dry-eyed farewell. There was the pedestrian with an orange snow-cone in Germany he’d walked into almost by accident whose face had lit up in recognition the moment his eyes met Kageyama’s but who opened his mouth only to spout a few excited lines in a language Kageyama couldn’t understand. There was the time a thirty-one year old Kageyama had accompanied his friend to visit their beloved, ailing great-uncle and read the story of an entire lifetime lived alone and searching in his crinkled, age-worn face beneath an old, faintly orange hunting cap. Once, Kageyama wasn’t even human and lived out his short life purring in Hinata’s lap wearing an orange collar and hoping against hope that Hinata truly understood because no matter how hard he strained his pointed ears the sounds Hinata emitted amounted to little more than gibberish. At least there’s a chance this time, no matter how thin. 

They’ve always pushed each other. This, at least, is something that holds true even though Hinata still looks right through Kageyama as though they hadn’t shared countless lives together. He’s beginning to understand what Hinata had meant those lifetimes ago when he’d said that having Kageyama by his side had been enough. The volleyball has become immeasurably more precious to him because it’s the single strand that connects them. With every toss that connects with a satisfying smack on Hinata’s palm, the hole in his chest grows smaller, because at the look on Hinata’s face he knows that, even if he doesn’t understand what he’s feeling, he’s actually begun to look at Kageyama like he’s someone special (but does it have to hurt so much?).

Being fifteen and Kageyama Tobio and inevitably falling for an oblivious Hinata all over again isn’t easy. This face doesn’t always work the way he wants it to, and the words don’t always form properly. This Hinata is skittish and a little bit terrified of Kageyama’s sloppy, intense overtures. When it comes down to it, Kageyama just doesn’t know how to act around a Hinata that barely knows the first thing about him.

That’s part of the reason that he lets it happen. Hinata is hit square in the face by one of Asahi’s spikes, and for a split second an irrational horror builds in the pit of Kageyama’s stomach. Hinata can’t be injured because they can’t lose volleyball; it’s the one thing that keeps Hinata by his side. The quick relief that comes moments later when Hinata springs back to his feet quickly manifests itself in white hot anger, and for once he can’t bite back the words fast enough. “I know what you’re thinking.” He growls, not bothering to mince his words. He watches the surprise play across Hinata’s face with a strange sense of satisfaction as he tells Hinata exactly what he knows is running through his mind.

“You’d never understand!” Hinata blurts, and it’s the final blow. _He’d ever understand?_ There is a lot in this life and in the lives he’s lived that Kageyama could never hope to fathom, but Hinata will never be one of them. 

He doesn’t know how else to put it. “As long as I’m here, you’ll be invincible!” He feels his clenched fists shaking as Hinata’s eyes blow wide, and the air catches in his throat when a spark of something he’s yet to see in this lifetime flashes across Hinata’s face. Hinata doesn’t say anything more to him, but with each sidelong glance something warm and secure settles into Kageyama’s chest. When Hinata clenches his red stained palm into a fist, their eyes meet and everything is right in Kageyama’s world. In the end, they lose the game, but Kageyama can’t help feeling that he’s won so much more. 

The velvety twilight envelops him as he steps out of the gym and he draws the night air into his aching lungs. His heart is still struggling to regain its normal rhythm, and he’s beginning to think he imagined the whole thing when a soft voice heavy with tears rises from behind him.

“Kageyama.” Hinata chokes out, and that quickly Kageyama whirls around, drawing the slim frame against himself with eyes clenched tight shut. This time Hinata feels so small in his arms and a fierce urge to protect him wells up as he finally drops his face into the mop of hair which smells of nothing less than _home_. “I-”

“ _Don’t_.” Kageyama insists in a gruff murmur, pulling Hinata still closer as he feels fists clench themselves into the back of his jacket. Right now is all that matters.

In a small voice, Hinata finally speaks up again. “Do you love volleyball more than me in this life?” It’s the most ludicrous thing Kageyama has ever heard, and the snort he can’t hold in says as much.

“I love you more than anything in any life.” The tear that finally slides down his cheek falls unnoticed down Hinata’s back.

*

It goes by so quickly; it always does. This life is a flurry of volleyball, flashes of smiles, warm sunsets, kisses pressed to flushed skin, and dizzying happiness. They spend a few years after high school in a cramped apartment elbowing for space. The Olympics pass by in a blur of sights and sounds and memories to be treasured for lifetimes to come. After that they settle down and bask in the normalcy that is not always afforded them. Kageyama likes to run his fingertips through the bright orange of Hinata’s hair even as it pales and then grays. He often catches Hinata’s gaze plumbing his for just a little bit too long even after the skin surrounding his piercing blue eyes has crinkled from years of joy. Even the most mundane of memories are carefully tucked away for futures that aren’t so kind. When this, too, comes to an end, Kageyama feels full and utterly content.

“This was a good one.” Hinata comments softly as Kageyama’s breathing grows shallow and Hinata’s familiar face goes out of focus. “Which probably means the next one is going to be hell.” Kageyama wants to frown and deny it, but he’s so tired. Instead, he blinks slowly and lets one corner of his lips lift in what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“I’ll find you.” He promises with what remains of his breath, finally letting his eyes slide closed for the last time. _For what it’s worth,_ he hopes Hinata can know somehow, _this has been one of my favorites_.

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I have a thing for making Hinata forget Kageyama so that the poor blueberry has to suffer? I'm sorry, Kags, I hope you know ily. 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
